


stuck on repeat

by peasgopopping



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Community: reel_merlin, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 11:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13925889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peasgopopping/pseuds/peasgopopping
Summary: They say you never forget your first. Considering death was usually a one-time thing, Arthur didn’t think people included that in their list of firsts. Still, the platitude applied quite aptly in his case. There was Camlann and then there were all the other deaths that followed. (An Edge of Tomorrow AU)





	stuck on repeat

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Reel Merlin](http://reelbbcmerlin.livejournal.com/) for the movie [Edge of Tomorrow](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1631867/).

They say you never forget your first.

Considering death was usually a one-time thing, Arthur didn’t think people included that in their list of firsts. Still, the platitude applied quite aptly in his case. There was Camlann and then there were all the other deaths that followed.

*

It was a blinding light.

So bright, Arthur couldn’t bear to open his eyes but it was accompanied by all manner of sensations. The world formed around him. From out of the nothingness came the roar of gushing water, ambient temperature giving way to a damp chill, the fresh earthy scent of bedewed grass.

He tried again to see what was around him, colour bloomed in his vision; bare tree branches stark against a pale blue sky, a familiar lake split in two by a crack of light, water pushing away to make room for the rift.

That was what they called it. The giant chasm in space that made no sense, that brought the alien creatures that now tormented and threatened the planet. Arthur didn’t know exactly who those people were, it was clear time had passed and the lay of the land different greatly, but they were people who now seemed to hold authority. They also seemed to believe that Arthur was somehow connected to it all.

Arthur couldn’t say that was completely untrue.

*

Time had passed. It was difficult to say how much because Arthur knew that between his death and awakening, there was something else in between. Something akin to a peaceful sleep perhaps. He wasn’t conscious exactly, sights and sounds were gone, but he had an awareness of his existence.

The world had changed. Arthur was not surprised and that was odd. He considered that maybe that was a kindness bestowed upon him, to make his return as smooth as possible. There were so many things he had never seen before and yet he knew what they were. Cars and phones and computers, gastronomical concoctions and government establishments.

Language had evolved and yet his comprehension was fine. He could hold a conversation, read and write in the English that had a passing resemblance to his own. He found the knowledge incredibly useful when being interrogated.

Located at his resting place, the rift had appeared without warning. They showed Arthur satellite pictures and meteorological charts, surveillance photographs from every angle; together they formed so comprehensive a report that Arthur wondered what more he could add to it.

Yes, he was found there. No, he didn’t know why. He didn’t know much, except that the aliens had a remarkable resemblance to dragons.

*

A wilful denial. It seemed ‘alien’ was the preferred term. The past was relegated to being a fairy tale. Dragons and magic were now fanciful musings told to children at bedtime. Perhaps that was why, though it looked like dragons, sounded, breathed, flew, encapsulated all manner of verb, it was too much for people to consider them real dragons.

They were aliens; from another planet or universe, the scientists hadn’t decided yet because they had yet to study one up close. The aliens (and Arthur had to consciously call them that) were roaming freely.

All manner of military force engaged them in combat and the only success they had was enraging them further. Arthur was not surprised since not an ounce of magic was used against them. Where had it all gone? Was there another purge in the time he was gone? Even the Great Purge hadn’t extinguished the flame of magic completely and yet now it was out of the realm of possibility.

*

It was difficult to watch the destruction and so Arthur didn’t. As a person of interest, so closely related to the rift that they felt the need to keep him on a leash, Arthur requested that he be allowed to join the war effort. He argued that it was a win-win situation; recruits were needed and if Arthur was really, truly connected to the aliens then they would probably find out more if he was out there with them.

It was surprising how the rigid inflexibility of military felt a little bit freeing. The uniform was different, so were the weapons and terminology, but at the heart of it combat was the same: soldiers risking it all to save the lives of others. Joining the ranks was an easy decision, it was the best chance he’d get at finding himself in this new world.

*

The missions came thick and fast. The aim quickly deescalated from annihilating the target to capturing the target to evacuating the area in the projected flight paths of the target. It was good to keep goals realistic.

Then there was the incident. The one where everything reset.

The rift cracked a little more one morning and a spew of aliens came out. Instead of dispersing across the sky in different directions, they seemed to have a destination in mind. The aliens that were already among them, the ones that were off the radar were suddenly on the radar, converging to a point in London.

They moved fast because the aliens moved faster.

There were troops on the ground, in the river, in the air. The closer they got, the clearer the situation became. The orders came through over the comms, clear the area of civilians, get them to safety. That meant instructing them to get to the nearest underground station where the alien fire couldn’t reach.

It felt stupid saying that. Dragon fire. Arthur could see them swirling ahead, the dragons with their dragon wings and dragon talons and their dragon dragons. Dragons.

Deployed with the rest of his troop, Arthur left the vehicle, suited and booted in equipment that weighed a fraction of chain mail but promised equivalent protection. They were in the heart of London, surrounded by tall buildings and monuments that Arthur had never seen but somehow knew.

Glass rained down from above, it sprinkled on the pavement and twinkled in the sunlight. Arthur’s boots made a crunch with every step. A dragon flew low, Arthur could feel the swell of air pressure change as it passed. The screams soon followed after.

The streets were flooded, mainly businesspeople and tourists, squeezing past each other through the narrow lanes to get to Monument Tube station. The presence of uniforms seemed to keep things orderly so Arthur moved to wherever the flurry was.

There was a hiss and a crackle in his ear. The mission had changed. Taking out the phone he was given, Arthur turned on the display and accessed the live feed from the surveillance drones. It couldn’t get a steady shot, being dragged by the wind and buffered by the close-flying dragons, but it was enough to see that there was a figure standing on the balcony of the Walkie Talkie.

The rooftop had been ripped off 20 Fenchurch Street and exposed the greenery of the Sky Garden. Arthur made his way towards it, dodging the oncoming stampede of terrified people try to get away from what was clearly the epicentre. The dragons circled, quite determinedly, around that particular building.

Minutes flew by as quickly as the dragons did, enough for the area to be deserted by the time Arthur arrived. He went around the side of the building, covered in foliage to indicate that this was clearly the Sky Garden entrance. Not quite so pristine, all manner of personal debris littered the floor, phones and purses, bags and visitor tickets.

Arthur paid little attention to the bleeping security gate as he passed through it to get to the lift. How fortunate that it was still functional and unaffected by the external damage to the building. The probability was high that it could break down but at the present that was preferable to the struggle climbing up to the thirty-fifth floor. The dragons still roared outside, a familiar sound that was not comforting in the least in this unfamiliar world.

The doors shut with a soft ding and muffled the crashes and screeches outside. It provided Arthur with a brief reprieve; his ears picked up on his quickening heartbeat, he felt he heat of anticipation rising about his neck, his palms were uncomfortably clammy. The soft light in the lift gave way to the unusual cloudless sky. The Sky Garden was bereft of visitors, broken glass still trickled from the gash the dragons created in the roof onto the reflective marble floor and the greenery on display swayed with the incoming gusts.

Cracked panels hung precariously overhead so Arthur made his way to one of the observation decks strategically. London stretched in all directions. So high up there were few buildings tall enough to break the seamless line where the city met the sky. Had the looming threat of dragons not been present, Arthur could have easily imagine it being quite a nice view.

True to the surveillance footage, there was a person standing there, seeming perfectly content to be out amongst the aliens that had caused so much destruction. Arthur called out. The figure turned.

Well. Merlin was just full of surprises.

*

Assess the situation before embarking on a course of action.

Really solid advice that is easier said than done.

There Merlin was, remarkably unchanged by the passage of time. His clothes were different, of course, but there was a flash of recognition in his eyes that could only reassure Arthur that it truly was him. His mouth moved but Arthur couldn’t hear the words, the billowing wind filled the interior with an overbearing sound.

The presence of dragons suddenly made a bit more sense but posed even more questions. Merlin had confessed once upon a time that he could command dragons: was that what this was? Had he ordered them to cause all this terror or rounded them up to tell them to stop? How was it possible for him to be there in the first place? Had he returned as Arthur did?

The questions were endless but Arthur could only get one answer.

A piercing screech filled the air. Both Arthur and Merlin flinched in response; the cry broke the lingering, awed meeting of their eyes. A large dragon, stockier than most, pinned Arthur as prey with its pitch black eyes. It swooped down through the jagged glass roofing, sharp talons outstretched poised to strike. It happened so quickly; Arthur was halfway to reaching for his weapon, a supercharged taser especially designed to take down a large beast, but he felt the strike before he could do anything. A sick warmth bloomed at his left side, it had gone right through him, the force so strong it dragged him backwards, off his feet and a few metres away from the observation deck where Merlin was left stricken.

Supine and immobile, Arthur felt the crushing weight of the dragon on him for a brief moment, the scales so close he could see the grey had the dull shine of graphite, before it took off and left him bleeding on the floor.

Quicker than Camlann, he thought.

Blood seeped out from the wound, pooled around him steadily, soaked back into his clothing. Arthur daren’t touch it. The pain was too much.

Last time it was a gradual descent, this time it was a drastic drop.

“Arthur.”

Merlin was by his side in an instant; eyes rimmed red and voice so fragile, it sounded more like a shaky sigh. Here they were again at the end. How cruel fate was, to be reunited with each other for so short a time, to be torn apart in such a manner. If Arthur could hold on for just a little longer, if he could say how nice it was to see friendly face after so long, if he could just--

*

The lift doors shut with a soft ding.

Arthur found himself upright, heartbeat racing, disorientated but very much whole. Jolted by what had happened, what he had remembered had happened but evidently did not happen, he patted himself down. Nothing hurt. Nothing had been ripped through by dragon claws, so what was that? He gulped down the breaths.

He’d been killed by a dragon, hadn’t he?

Had he not?

But it felt so real, so vivid, none of the haziness of a dream or the teetering remembrance of déjà vu.

The lift doors opened and the scene was placed before Arthur again.

*

He didn’t freeze, exactly, it was a strategic biding of time.

The lift doors closed again but it wouldn’t go anywhere until he pressed a button so Arthur remained in the warm light, mind racing, thinking of possibilities.

The comm in his ear hissed, a choppy voice demanded to know his location. Somewhere along the way he had broken away from the group and they were just noticing it now. He yanked it out and crushed it underfoot. He didn’t need another thing to think about. He had died. Again. An unusual turn of events but at least it wasn’t a permanent development. Arthur let the doors open again and stepped out cautiously. He eyed the sky for the lead-coloured dragon but couldn’t see it. Perhaps Merlin was calling to it now and its arrival was imminent.

He called out again and Merlin responded the same.

*

Merlin turned to Arthur like it was the first time.

But it wasn’t.

It wasn’t the second or even the third time, this was maybe the eleventh but Arthur couldn’t be sure. There was the time dragon killed him, the time he suffocated in the lift, the time a jagged glass shard fell and pierced through him, the time he was swept away by a dragon and dropped into the Thames, the time he was shot by a sniper, the time he hunted down that sniper and got killed anyway.

There were other times, duplicates, times not worth mentioning. It was enough for Arthur to memorise the sequence of events. He knew when to step to avoid the collapsing roof, where to sidestep and dive away from danger. He was running on muscle memory that didn’t exist and would eventually stop guiding him past a particular point because he wouldn’t know what came next.

He reached the observation deck where Merlin stood. Merlin had perhaps two minutes to prepare for their meeting, Arthur had had much longer.

“Arthur.”

With a voice so sweet, Merlin reached a tentative hand towards him but Arthur had no time for that. Arthur barrelled into him, stretched both arms around Merlin and squeezed. It felt like relief. This was what he had been trying to get to all this time. All the struggles mattered not because Merlin was here. He closed his eyes and turned his face to burrow in Merlin’s neck, the skin there kept warm by a scarf. Merlin was similarly affected, there was the warmth of his shaky breath in Arthur’s ear, the same sound he used to make when he tried to hold back tears. Slowly, Merlin brought his arms up and Arthur felt his clothes tighten in Merlin’s grasp.

Merlin made a pained sound so Arthur loosened his grip, allowed them the chance to breathe, but Arthur couldn’t let go. The weight of Merlin against him, Arthur felt that something was wrong. He adjusted his hold and felt something wet between his fingers.

Merlin crumpled to his knees, face contorting in pain, and Arthur could see the reason why. Merlin had been shot and Arthur knew who by.

This was the first time anything had happened to Merlin. It was always Arthur who misfortune befell in all these replays. Merlin had been untouched before this and now he was fading fast. Arthur carried him inside because danger was still lurking; between the sniper and the dragons, it was clear Arthur’s precognition had its limits.

With the safety of cover, Arthur could process what was happening better or perhaps ‘worse’ was a more apt word. With their situations reverse, Arthur couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Merlin felt all those times he’d been by Arthur’s side while he was dying. Was he submerged and drowning in helplessness like this?

“You’re here.”

“Yes. I’m here.”

Arthur took his hand.

“I waited so long. I never thought—”

“It’s okay. You’ll be okay.” 

Merlin shook his head. His hair fell against the floor as he turned away. The weariness in his eyes, inset and unwavering, Merlin was resigned to his fate. Full of empty promises, half-truths and crushing disappointment, he was no longer surprised that the good things in life were fleeting, that what he wished for was dangled before him and quickly snatched out of his grasp.

It confused Arthur. Merlin had lived long, yes, they had managed a brief exchange about it a handful of lifetimes ago. His magic sustained his continuing existence so could it not let him go on now? Was the wound so fatal that nothing could be done?

Merlin brought Arthur’s hand, intertwined with his own, to his chest. Pressed tightly he could feel the rabbit fast heartbeat slow to nothing.

It didn’t make sense. There had to be a reason Arthur was always brought back to the same point and the only feasible explanation had to do with Merlin. Yet Merlin was gone and something in Arthur’s gut was telling him that he wasn’t meant to do this alone. It was an easier truth to swallow than Arthur not wanting to do it without him.

The dragons outside were enraged, fire trails and bone vibrating roars, perhaps the hail of bullets were starting to bother them or maybe it was the loss of connection to their dragonlord. Arthur could understand.

He could also try again.

There was no guarantee but the precipice looked inviting and so Arthur leapt.

*

Arthur was ready.

Getting Merlin away from the danger zone that was the observation deck was his main priority. His steps were sure, his awareness of all manner of threats heightened to pinpoint accuracy. Arthur grabbed Merlin and ran. The surprise was always the same but Merlin followed him regardless and let the answers Arthur had to give him come later.

*

Merlin had a working hypothesis.

“So either the world is the same and you’re different or the world is different and you’re the same.”

It took Arthur three attempts to get them out of the Sky Garden alive but they had managed to procure a vehicle and were in the middle of their getaway. It felt almost like an escapade of their past: the two of them travelling great distances whilst trying to avoid attention from other people. The Ford Fiesta they were in was certainly more comfortable a ride compared to horseback, Arthur quite liked driving and if they weren’t being pursued then he reckoned he would have enjoyed the speed even more.

From the shambles that was Arthur’s explanation, Merlin picked up the pieces and laid out his theories. Listening to his voice against the hum of the engine was comforting to Arthur and from the way Merlin’s mouth curved up to a smile, as though he couldn’t help himself, it seemed he felt the same.

It was strange. They were not the same people they were when they last met, the amount of time that had lapsed was much greater than the years they had known each other and yet the ease in each other’s presence was the same. Was this not an update of how things were back then? Merlin, talking his ear off, and him, attempting to effuse nonchalance but really hanging on his every word.

Arthur pondered on it. If the world was the same and Arthur was different then he would be returning to the point in time and space, memories of what happened after intact, causation deciding to take a holiday when Arthur died to bring him back, again and again until he got things right. If Arthur remained the same and the world changed then each death was life in a different reality. If that was the case then how many Merlins had he briefly met and left behind?

There was a third option, a little more fanciful than the others but there was a chance that Arthur was seeing the future. Some kind of magic was allowing Arthur to have premonitions so he could carefully carve events of the future to his liking. It was nicer to think of it that way. To believe that these were all visions, mere possibilities, was easier to swallow than the alternative—that it was all real and Arthur wasn’t being allowed to fail.

That was a lie.

Blindsided by a truck, the crash was a burst in his ears and jolt through his body.

The lift doors opened.

*

Merlin was awful at telling lies or perhaps Arthur was getting used to picking up the signs.

He was about to confess to something he’d confessed to seven times before.

They were in the car once again, taking a route that Arthur knew would keep them alive and undetected the longest by forces determined to make that not the case. Arthur was tempted to put an end to the nervous energy Merlin exuded and just tell him that he knew but it seemed cruel somehow, like admitting you already knew about the surprise party all your friends and family have been planning for months, except not like that at all.

The truth was that Merlin was contemplating the destruction of the world. For him, it had been so long, waiting and not knowing, how many times did the end seem nigh and Arthur’s return inevitable yet it never came. Utilising the dragons, Merlin thought to create dire need that would make Arthur come back. It was an end justified the means approach and, as horrible and selfish as it sounded, Arthur found it hard to hate him because he knew that that was Merlin’s way.

But these dragons were not called from the egg by a dragonlord. They were pulled into existence by the rift and so while Merlin had sway, his word with them was not absolute.

Merlin looked forlorn out the window, withdrawn as soon as the truth spilled and Arthur wanted to reach out to him. There were things he wanted to say, things he’d said before in the repeats of this conversation but never led to anywhere good. Expressing understanding would just lead to them arguing; the only response Merlin would accept was Arthur thinking him to be a piece of shit. Since that was not the case, the next best thing was silence and occasional sideways glances he hoped Merlin would return.

He did not.

*

Merlin owned a flat in Bristol.

They ditched the car once it turned dark and made the rest of the way there by foot under the cover of night. The silence between them broke into terse conversation, more so on Merlin’s part than Arthur’s but Arthur allowed it. After all of the excitement, Arthur desperately needed someplace safe to rest, to take a breath and rid himself of the feeling that he was being persecuted by the universe. It seemed Merlin needed the same.

They ate together, a couple of ready meals from Tesco Merlin had kept in the freezer, the quiet being another party in their conversation once again. It had been so long since Arthur tasted anything, drank anything, slept or did any number of daily ablutions. All of the dying brought him to the same point physically, he never felt the need or had the opportunity so he took the chance as it was presented to him and retired for the night. Reluctant though he was, Merlin joined him at a distance.

Like all those times they camped out under the stars, Arthur could sense Merlin’s presence beside him, the shifting of the air as he breathed, something reassuring in the dark. It allowed Arthur to let himself to drift, to feel the edge of adrenaline melt away, so used to tension, Arthur had to make an effort to relax. It would have been peaceful, he would have gone into a deep sleep, done a little dreaming and it would finally be a new day but all he got was a rude awakening as a team of what seemed to be combat soldiers swarmed in and aimed their guns at them.

Merlin threw up a spell at the intruders and several of the men clad in black protective gear were flung to the walls. Arthur reached for the knives he’d kept under his pillow as a precaution since the taser was long gone but before he could do anything, Arthur felt a paralysing crackle in his limbs pinning him in place. He’d thought it was the military, under orders to track him down after his desertion or Merlin after his presence at the Sky Garden, but evidently it was not, these were organised magic users attempting to subdue them. They made gestures with their hands and coloured shapes of light filled the air, Arthur didn’t know what it meant but Merlin seemingly did and made efforts to dispel them.

Arthur’s attempts to move were painful but he couldn’t just lie there while they were under attack. He pushed through it, gritted his teeth to keep the scream that was building, and got to his feet just as Merlin dispatched the final intruder standing.

Arthur huffed and gestured to the mass of bodies before them.

“Didn’t mean for you to do all the work.”

There was a beat before the ghost of a smile rose from Merlin’s lips.

Leaving Merlin to catch his breath, Arthur searched the intruders. They were surprisingly light on weapons, probably because they were relying on magic, but Arthur tossed them in a pile for later consideration. What he really wanted to find out was who they were and why they had come after them. It was difficult to see, black on slightly darker black, but there was an insignia, a symbol that Arthur recognised and never thought he’d see again.

The Rowan Tree.

*

There were so many dots already on the page and Arthur was frustrated that he couldn’t see the whole picture. After their altercation they were on the move again, suited and booted, a Citroen Picasso their vehicle of choice, the image of that accursed bare tree weighing heavy on their minds. The last Arthur had seen of it, it was flown under Morgana’s tyrannical rule, and there is was once more, surviving the centuries to be used again. How was that possible? He watched Merlin in the rearview mirror, the little crease in his brow, the way his lips pursed and twitched as he remained in pensive thought. Arthur could only take it for so long.

“Come on then, what are you thinking?”

Merlin turned to him, eyes wide and startled, seemingly taking a moment to adjust to the fact they were on speaking terms again. He cleared his throat, rough from silence, and poured out everything they knew so far. There was a rift and from it came dragons (and Arthur), there were also magic users (once thought to be extinct) amongst other deadly pursuers, and then there was Arthur’s repetition (which hadn’t happened for a while now). Merlin did not know who the sorcerers were, he had believed that magic amongst the population continued as it did following the Great Purge, and that it would have dwindled to nothing. Being proved wrong rankled. Supposedly, the spells used in the fight were nothing special but it didn’t seem like that to Arthur. 

With other magic users in play, ones that had symbols of the Old Religion, ones that were on their asses, Merlin and Arthur determined that there was something to be done about the situation. If people were trying to stop them, did it not make sense that there was something they were supposed to do? The prophecy hung in the air, a heavy burden, but their shoulders were experienced in carrying the weight of the world.

The rift awaited.

*

The radio stations still played songs interspersed with breaking news updates. Heartbreaking ballads between travel alerts and politician interviews trying to angle support their way. The dragons were still circling above the city skies and animal behaviour experts were invited to give their interpretations as to what the dragons were trying to do. Merlin scoffed at their guesses, more to himself than to Arthur, but Arthur knew that it wasn’t false bravado.

“They’re just a little confused,” Merlin explained, as though he were describing an adorable puppy that couldn’t figure out a mirror. “The world is different to the one they remember.”

Arthur could relate.

“How are they even here in the first place though? I thought they were all hunted down in the Purge.”

“Magic, I guess,” Merlin shrugged. Arthur thought he was being facetious but the answer was sincere. It probably was magic but magic didn’t just happen on its own. Something or someone held it in their being and applied enough force to tip it into the world. They just needed to figure it out. They could do that. Untangling diabolical plots was almost a daily chore in Camelot.

They stopped at a petrol station to refuel and stock up on snacks. Arthur grabbed a map, some water and headed back to the car. Merlin had drifted off, his head tilted back on the rest with his mouth agape; he didn’t wake when Arthur had to slam the door shut or started the engine up again. Arthur smoothed out the map across the dashboard as best he could; they still had a ways to go, longer still if they were forced to avoid the main roads. 

He began driving. Without conversation, he was left to mull over things alone. This had been the longest he’d gone without a restart. Perhaps he could make it to the end this time.

*

It should have been an hour drive but the exodus of people still escaping havoc left in London meant that the roads were littered with vehicles. The pace was a crawl and it took a surprising amount of strength to not slam down on the horn in frustration. They would have probably been better off walking but they were on the Second Severn Crossing and leaving the car in the middle of of a jam packed motorway wasn’t a good idea. The sun had set and the lights along the bridge dotted in a curve into the distance.

A stillness fell upon the water, the moon reflected on it perfectly, and it unnerved Arthur. Something was wrong, the hum of stalling engines died and Merlin woke with a start.

“Something’s coming.”

Merlin threw up a preemptive shield, a translucent gold sphere around their car, and Arthur could do nothing but grip the wheel tighter. Something was speeding towards them, ploughing through the vehicles ahead and throwing them off the bridge as though they were nothing. The shield provided adequate protection as they remained firmly in place while the silver Yaris crumpled like a can of Coke, the metal groaning as it crunched as it fell away.

It looked like an army of darkness. People dressed head to toe in black, hoods that fell so far down on their faces that it must have been impractical as it seemed they would obstruct their vision, marched towards them, filling the road ahead. Arthur flicked his eyes up to the rear view mirror and the view behind them looked much the same.

They were surrounded.

Arthur felt a static crackle in the air, that charged feeling of the atmosphere before lightning struck. The magic flung at them was a barrage, a flurry of forces that crashed into Merlin’s shield. The hooded figures had their arms stretched out to direct the attacks their way; Merlin and Arthur could do nothing but sit there and formulate a plan, hoping their defence would hold.

“Usurper to the throne!” A voice cried out from the mob, booming, a painful inner-ear rumble. “Hear us!”

“Is he talking about you?” Merlin gritted through his teeth, the effort starting to show.

“We have waited centuries to raise the rightful heir, the duty our ancestors passed down to us, to return magic to the land. We will have the power we were promised.”

“I’m guessing they were expecting somebody else to pop out of the lake.”

Merlin’s breathing became ragged, Arthur could tell that the strain was almost too much. Right. Enough of that. He’d been through that ‘rightful heir to the throne’ shit before and no way was he going to sit back and go through it again hundreds of years later.

Arthur put his foot down and the car roared, they lurched forward and the bodies thudded against the bonnet as they drove into them. They needed to get some distance. Since the road ahead had been cleared for them, Arthur went as fast as their crappy car could take them. It took the couple of minutes it was supposed to take to get across the bridge in the first place to get back on land.

He didn’t look back. It was pointless, Merlin was giving him the play-by-play anyway. Arthur kept his eyes forward while Merlin twisted in his seat to deal with the stragglers who had hijacked the abandoned cars to go after them. He didn’t know how long he could keep it up, erratically driving down any adjacent road he saw up ahead, making abrupt turns to try and shake off their pursuers.

It was starting to feel futile, he’d made it this far, going down residential roads and shuttered town centres, but it was inevitable that one of the roads would lead to a dead end. There wasn’t much time to evaluate their situation, bricks all around, wheelie bins filled to the brim.

They were sent flying, the rear of the car lifting off and flipping them over, crashing into the wall. The metal groaned, the ridges formed by the crash like nails on a chalkboard as they scraped down to the ground, eventually resting on its side. The windows had shattered completely, they sprinkled pieces on the inside, neither of their airbags had gone off an the impact left Arthur feeling brittle. If he dared to move, it felt like something threatened to break.

To his side, Merlin hissed through the pain. The worry Arthur felt for him filled his insides.

“The next time,” Merlin reached out, blood stained fingers quivering as they touched Arthur’s wrist. “The next time we’ll be farmers.”

Had Arthur told him about that dream this time? Arthur couldn’t remember anymore, the tries blurring together. Merlin’s grip, already weak, became slack. His promise, sincerely meant, lingered.

*

The chickens liked to pick as his shoelaces.

They gathered around Arthur feet, ignoring the feed he scattered in favour of his footwear, until he hopped the fence and left the coop. A tactical retreat. Merlin was busy in the kitchen, the sound of splashing water and clunking pots and pans trinkled from the open window into the stark forest quiet. Arthur proceeded to the task of chopping wood, kindling set aside and the bulk of trunks piled neatly around the back of their cottage.

Life here wasn’t exciting but Arthur was glad for it. He had dreamt of it once upon a time.

He drew water from the nearby well, drank healthy gulps to quench his thirst before carrying the near overflowing buckets back. Merlin came out to greet him and took one to lighten his load. It was a cooperative effort to keep themselves alive.

Merlin set down a chopping board and knife on the kitchen table, an array of vegetables spread out and ready for Arthur to prepare. He hummed something cheerfully as he washed his hands, drying them on a tea towel before chucking it behind the sink. Arthur watched him carefully. Merlin’s hair had grown out, started curling across his brow and parted at his neck, stark against skin that never saw the sun. His eyes were bright, his attention focused on Arthur, his smile soft and so comforting, to see it like that gave Arthur pause.

“I think…” Arthur had to force himself to continue. The words caught on the inner peace that he had found. “I think it’s time to go back.”

Merlin stilled.

It had already been three summers. They’d lived together in a perfect stasis of their careful creation. It was a reprieve Arthur was taking for granted. It had given him a sense of freedom that he’d never had in Camelot, that his deaths had halted time and time again. 

The rift still awaited, the future beyond it too.

“I have loved every moment here with you but I can’t stay knowing-“

“I know.”

Carefully, Arthur picked up the knife, the sharp pointed edge glinted as he pressed the handle into Merlin’s hand.

“You’re a real piece of work.” Merlin’s eyes were rimmed red, glossy with tears that were threatening to spill but he furiously blinked them away.

“You’ll do it for me anyway?”

“Yes. Anything. Always.”

Arthur closed his eyes. The distraught in Merlin’s face was too much to bear, any more and he’d change his mind in an instant. He’d stay and let the world outside burn.

“I promise I’ll follow you.”

With a gentle caress, Merlin let him go.

*

The lift doors opened.

Merlin was waiting.

*

Merlin commanded the graphite scaled dragon to take them to the rift. It was a turbulent ride; to avoid the hail of bullets from the infantry they climbed to higher altitude, the winds buffering them so hard, Merlin eventually resorted to shielding them. With the wind skimming around them as a hush instead of a roar in their ears, it gave them an opportunity to talk.

They could not come up with an explanation as to how Merlin remembered but since they were still clueless as to Arthur’s ability to restart, the mystery was easier to set aside. Arthur contemplated that perhaps it was Merlin’s dutifulness that carried his consciousness to where Arthur was. It was only the last time, the time they lived together; Merlin’s knowledge of the times before were only what Arthur had told him.

For the first time in a long while, Arthur was hopeful for their chances to get to the rift unscathed. Since they were astride the dragon, Arthur held on to Merlin, arms around him tight. He pressed his face to Merlin’s shoulder, finding solace there. He felt Merlin tense and contemplated letting go but then Merlin leaned into him. It was as close as they’d gotten to open affection.

There was hazy light in the distance, the rift now reached the skies above. The dragon reared, refusing to go on, perhaps sensing that it was returning to whence it came. As they descended, Avalon came into view with the rift, still gushing water causing ripples along the lake. They were not the only ones there, the roads had been cordoned off and soldiers were stationed around, the flickering sound of helicopter blades were suddenly overhead.

So this was how the military got all the information they showed him. There was movement, troops were getting into formation, they’d been stationed there to guard the rift and they weren’t going to stand by when a great big dragon approached. Arthur knew they’d have to make their move, and fast.

“I think we’re going to have to drop.”

“Into the water?”

“They’re going to bring this dragon down one way or another.”

The supersonic canons were coming out. Arthur recalled them from training, they would emit a piercing frequency to confound dragons, so debilitating it took them out of the sky so they could deal with them on land. Better to get off and give their dragon a chance to escape.

Arthur expected the water. Cold and bitter, hard on impact. They quickly resurfaced and made their way to land, swimming frantically. The tower on the island loomed, untouched by time. By the time they reached the shore, clothes sopping and weighing them down, they were just far enough from any ranged military attacks, just close enough to see that the mysterious magic users had arrived. While they were keeping each other busy, Merlin and Arthur were left with the rift.

“So, what do we do now?”

“I’m going to be honest with you, Merlin. I’ve never gotten this far. In all the lives I’ve lived, I’ve yet to find the answer for all of this.”

The light of the rift wavered, like the sun filtering through a curtain, as they made their approach the sound of the water quietened, the wind and birdsong gone. Arthur was made acutely aware of his own breathing, the sound reverberating like the echo found in an empty room.

The calm allowed him to think. He felt enveloped by the peace, it had been there in that cottage they resided but he had pushed all thoughts of this burden aside. The contentment had sustained him until it could not longer, there was a duty he had to fulfil to the people of the world.

Then it clicked.

“Those people opened the rift because they wanted magic to return but you’ve told me that magic was all about balance. When my father executed the Purge, all those people, all the magic they possessed, it had to go somewhere and I think it went to you.”

“So it should be me?” Merlin turned towards the illumination. His eyes betraying the unease he felt. “I’m the one to close the rift?”

“I think your magic is the key. I know that this is a lot to ask but I must.”

Arthur had always thought he asked too much from Merlin, even when he didn’t know he was. His loyalty in the face of danger, the impossible decisions and the sacrifices that had come from them. There was just one thing he needed, one more thing for all this to end, and he could feel the anguish twist inside him as he asked.

“You need to let go of your magic. Return it to close the rift.”

“But it’s..”

It was an intrinsic part of him, Arthur knew. Magic had lived in him and served him, was woven in his very being since birth.

“Please, Merlin.” Arthur cared not that his voice wavered. With his pride cast aside, Arthur took Merlin’s hands in his own, disregarding how clammy they were, and sincerely pleaded. “I beg you, I don’t think I could do this all again.”

Merlin’s eyes softened, his fingers squeezed gently.

“Anything. Always.”

Arthur let him go, their fingers latched until the distance forced them to separate. He watched Merlin’s figure, tall and determined, stride towards the rift. The light engulfed him, the water froze before crashing down over him, the silence broke and the sounds of the world returned.

*

Coffee had been brewed and the toast was well done. Arthur admired the breakfast spread that he’d prepared and it seemed that the wafting scents were enough to rouse Merlin from sleep.

“Seriously, it’s just toast, not like you prepared the bread from scratch.” Merlin voice was a little hoarse, his hair was a mess and one cheek was pink with the wrinkled imprint of his pillow.

Arthur graciously pulled out a chair for Merlin to sit, scooted it forward to ensure he was seated comfortably before joining him at the table.

“Eat up, you need to rebuild your strength.”

Ever since the rift disappeared, Merlin spent most of his days resting. His magic had dampened but Arthur could tell how glad Merlin was that some of it had remained. The dissipation of the rift provided enough of a distraction for them to escape. The graphite dragon had returned and understood Arthur’s request for rescue. Flying back to Bristol with Merlin, unconscious but otherwise seemingly unscathed, Arthur wondered if the worry was anything like what Merlin felt after Camlann. How long ago that life seemed to him now.

But they were both fine. Here and now.

“What’s that smile for?” Merlin bit through a jam slathered slice of toast. “There are still people to deal with. The military is still after you and those shadowy beings are now after me. There’s a bunch of dragons roaming around out there too.”

Arthur reached out and swiped at the smear of strawberry in the corner of Merlin’s mouth, a little amused by Merlin’s embarrassed indignation as he batted his hand away.

“We have each other though, don’t we?”

Merlin opened his mouth to retort but he paused, seeming unable to deny the fact. Instead, he kicked Arthur under the table, eliciting a delighted bark of laughter from him, before entangling their legs while they finished eating breakfast together.


End file.
